


Bedtime Story

by apple_pi



Series: Bedtime Stories [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, Monaboyd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-05
Updated: 2005-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-02 03:32:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apple_pi/pseuds/apple_pi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drunken phone call and illicit self-abuse. What more could anyone want?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“’Lo?”

“Dommmmmm.”

“Bill.” His hands are so weak with sleep that the mobile is barely touching his ear, pressed haphazardly to his face, and Billy’s drunken giggle is almost lost. “What?”

“What time is it there?”

Dom inhales and keeps his eyes shut. “What time is it _there?_”

“It’s… it’s… oooh, look at that.” Billy is trollied and he sounds just like Pippin. “S’three in the morning, here.”

Dom sighs and rolls over, placing the phone between his ear and the pillow, so the weight of his head holds it in place. It kinda hurts, mashed against his cheek like this, but it’s easier than holding it. His hands don’t want to hold it. “Then it’s three in the morning here, too, Bill, because I’m in fucking Manchester.” His hands want—well, one hand wants—to rub his belly lightly, so he lets it. Because it feels nice. “As you know.”

“Ooooh, I forgot. You’re coming to see me tomorrow, aren’t you?” Billy sounds both surprised and delighted.

“And I suspect you’ll be a good deal less cheery by the time I get there,” Dom murmurs. His hand has migrated onto his cock. Which isn’t a surprise, because that’s where all men want their hands, at all times. Or someone else’s hand will work, too. “I suspect you’ll be hungover and pissing and moaning, instead of just pissed.” He tugs gently at his half-hard dick.

“Noooooo!” Billy giggles again. “I’ll be thrilled to see you. Always thrilled to see my Dommeh.”

“Mmm. Sure you will.” Lacks something in the way of witty repartee, but Dom is sleepy. And distracted by the tangible migration of blood from his brain to between his legs as his fingers rub and grasp.

“I will!” Billy is drunk enough that he’s beginning to be incomprehensible, and it comes out _Ah weel!_ “I’ll be delighted. I promise.”

“Hmm.” Dom doesn’t mind Billy calling in the middle of the night, but he does kind of want to do something with his hard-on. Keep Billy talking so he can stay quiet, that’s the trick. “Where’d you go to get so smashed?”

“Ah, down the pub, y’know. Met up with m’mates. They all had two years’ worth of drinks t’buy me… think they did, too.” Another giggle.

“Tell me about it.” _Mmmm_. Oh wait, he hasn’t said that out loud, has he? No. Okay. Billy’s talking again.

“It was… weird. Not bad, but I kept expecting to see someone else across the table from me, y’know?” Billy sighs.

“Mmmm. Oh.” Fuck. Doesn’t exactly sound normal. “Yeah, I know.” 

“Just weird t’be back…” Billy’s voice is changing, slowing, and now he sounds like sleepy Pippin. “I’m tired, Dommeh.”

“Me, too.” Dom’s palm is warm and damp against his cock, and as he slides it up and down, his foreskin slips all the way back and he sighs. “Tell me—” He swallows. “Tell me a bedtime story, Billy.”

The sound of a Billy yawn, and Dom is picturing the small mouth open wide, Billy’s eyes scrunched shut and his sharp white teeth and little pink tongue, and then Billy doesn’t help, he makes those faint smacking noises people make after a particularly satisfying yawn. “Mmmmmkay. Hold on. I’mma get in bed first.”

Dom doesn’t reply. He nods, then realises that Billy can’t see him—_good thing, that_, he thinks, and almost laughs—and swallows again. “’Kay. But make it a good story.”

There’s no reply and Dom hears faint noises—Billy’s probably put the phone down to get undressed. Dom takes the time to stroke himself hard and fast, pushing his head back into the pillow and hips up into his fist, and he chokes back a moan.

Just in time, because here’s Billy again: “Fucking cold in this fucking house…” and rustling noises and then Billy’s voice is suddenly much closer to Dom’s ear. “Hello there, Dominic.”

Dom squeezes and opens his mouth on air; he tries not to gasp. “H-hi. So.” Deep breath. “You know you sound just like Pippin when you’re loaded? Except when you call me Dominic.” Is that a weird thing to say? Fuck. He can’t tell anymore. He’s back to slow, steady stroking, and sweat is making the small of his back clammy.

“Do I? Then _you_ should tell _me_ a bedtime story, Merry-mine.” 

“Bad idea,” Dom manages. _Um, why?_ “I’m too sleepy. Your turn. And besides, Pip’s the storyteller.”

Billy snorts. “Liar, you mean…” Another yawn, and it makes Dom yawn this time, right in the middle of stroking himself off, which makes him laugh.

But that’s okay, because Billy said something mildly funny, didn’t he? “Tell me a story, Billy.” And ohhh, his hand is moving faster on his cock, and Dom shifts so the phone isn’t quite so close to his mouth. 

“Is it Pippin or Billy, then?” Billy sighs, and Dom can practically see him snuggling under the duvet. He sleeps curled into a little ball, Billy does, and Dom knows it—can picture him with what he knows is perfect accuracy.

“Whichever.”

Billy smiles—Dom can see that, too—and starts talking. “Once upon a time, there was a peasant lad named Dom.”

“Mm-hmm.” Dom begins pushing his hips up into his fist, over and over, keeping his breathing steadily even as his movements accelerate. 

“He lived with his two wicked stepbrothers, Sean and Elijah.”

Dom snorts—he can’t help it. “Billy.”

“Shh. M’telling a story.” Billy giggles softly. “Sean was anal retentive, and Elijah was a mess, and between them Dom was always having to loan out his CDs and clean up his messes, and life was just miserable.”

Dom’s losing the thread of the story—Billy’s voice winds on hypnotically, telling of how Elijah borrowed all Dom’s DVDs, and Sean always made him cook healthy, non-fat foods because Sean wanted to lose weight, and at any other time the story would have been hysterical, but it was 3:30 in the morning and Dom was getting himself off, hand working furiously as his hips jerked rhythmically upward, and it was all he could do to murmur _mmmm_ (not moan it, not at all) and keep the heavy breathing out of the mouthpiece of the mobile.

“And then one day Dominic met the handsome Prince Billy.” Billy’s voice blurs, teetering near the edge of sleep.

“Yeah?” It comes out hoarse and thick, and Dom clamps his lips shut. Fuck, he’s close—he shuts his eyes and rolls his balls in his fingers, god, it feels good—back to stroking—and he wants, he wants—

“Yeah. Mm. And Prince Billy said Dominic could come and live in his castle, on the condition that he always cooked good food with lots of fat and salt and sugar, and didn’t leave his socks on the floor, and never ever used Prince Billy’s surfboard.”

Dom’s laughing and his hand’s slapping up and down hard and fast, he’s gasping and coming and the phone slides away, down the pillow, as he arches his back and closes his eyes and his orgasm washes through his body like a wave.

He shudders and holds his breath, then releases it in a silent rush and gropes for the phone.

“Wasn’t that funny.” _Wasnae tha’ funneh._

“I—I dropped the phone.” Innate ability smooths his voice; he doesn’t think Billy can hear the way his pulse is still throbbing at the base of his throat or the way he’s shivering with aftershocks, and certainly Billy can’t hearseesmell (tastetouch) the sweat on his back and under his arms, or the sticky fluid gluing the fingers of his right hand together. “Sorry.”

“Mmmm. Well. I should let you sleep, so that you c’n come and wake me up from my drunken stupor tomorrow.”

“Today.” Dom wipes his hand lazily on one corner of the sheet; he’ll put them in the laundry tomorrow anyway. He settles back and pulls the duvet over himself. “S’already the day I’m coming to see you.”

“Mmm. Poor wee Dommeh.” Billy’s voice is slip-sliding into unconsciousness. “Can’t go without his Billy for more than two months at a time.”

“…Yeah. Hey, hang up before you fall asleep on the phone, Bill.”

“…Yeah. Hurry up and get here. Miss you.”

“Miss you, too.” But Billy has hung up, and Dom speaks to a dead line.

He lies awake in the bed for a long time, and when grey light leaks through the curtains, Dom gets up and gets dressed. He tosses clothing into his rucksack and the sheets into the laundry chute, and steps out of the house with his keys in his fist before the sun has risen.


	2. Happy Ending

“Who are you and why do you hate me?” 

“Payback for the splinter?” Dom hazarded, rubbing Billy’s neck gently. “Anyway, I don’t hate you. I brought you aspirin and water, I’m here to save your life.”

“But you turned on the light.” Billy groaned. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Early.” Dom shook Billy’s shoulder. “C’mon, sit up and drink this.” Billy rolled over and groped for the water, squinting so pathetically Dom had to laugh. “You look like shite on a stick.”

Billy half-sat up and tossed back the pills and then the water. “Fuck. You should’ve just let me die.” He handed the glass back and collapsed onto the mattress, shoving his head under the pillow. “Why’s it early? What day is it?”

“I couldn’t go back to sleep after you called,” Dom said, placing the glass on the bedside table and then scrubbing his face tiredly. “Waited till it was light and started driving.”

“Eejit.” Muffled, and Billy squirmed, one hand pushing at his pillow until his mouth was visible. “So c’mon, get into bed and let me sleep.”

Dom undressed, trying not to think of Billy’s voice on the phone last night, and of what he’d done while Billy talked, and of Billy’s almost-last words: _Poor wee Dommie, can’t go without his Billy for more than two months at a time_. It’s not like Dom hadn’t been thinking of those words for the last six hours or so, nonstop. It’s not like Dom didn’t spend the entirety of the drive here wondering if Billy might be right.

When he climbed into bed, Billy scooted over, back to Dom. “Rub my neck again,” he slurred, and Dom put his hand back, smiling a little. 

“Thought you wanted to die.”

“I do. Just figure I might as well be comfy while I go.”

Dom rubbed in silence for a while, aware that Billy was at least mostly still awake. “Bill.”

“Mmm.”

“I missed you.”

“...Me, too, Dommie. M’glad you’re here.”

“Yeah.” Dom scooted closer. Billy was warm, radiating heat under the duvet like his own little nuclear reactor. “Bill?”

“What?”

“I mean, I really missed you. _Really_.”

“And yet I’m starting to feel less delighted that you’re here, because I’m no longer asleep.”

“I’m still rubbing your neck.” Dom scooted closer yet and tucked his knees carefully behind Billy’s.

Billy made a little sound that might have been acquiescence.

“I just... fuck.” Dom closed his eyes. “I’m so tired.”

“There’s this thing we do, here, we call it _sleep_,” Billy said, voice patient. “S’very good for this tiredness you speak of.”

Dom took a deep breath. “I miss you too much, and I can’t sleep very well most of the time, and I think I might have maybe fallen in love with you just a little bit in New Zealand. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, or I should have said something before we left, but I don’t think I quite realised it, but I do now and I’m sorry I’m such a fuckup, Bill. Maybe I will just try that sleeping thing, huh? Okay. G’night.”

Billy’s neck was warm and rigid under his fingers, which had gone still while he rambled, and Dom pulled his hand from Billy’s neck suddenly, embarrassed. He untucked himself from Billy’s body and turned over and wondered if he could just fall asleep and wake up and make believe he’d never said what he’d just said. Misery and panic had the exhaustion at bay, though, and when Billy moved behind him, squirmed and shifted and turned until Dom was pretty sure Billy was now looking at the back of his head, Dom wondered if possibly he could just _pretend_ he was _already_ asleep, surely he could do that, right? Right?

Billy’s voice was a bit blurry when it finally came. “Is being a little bit in love like being a little bit pregnant?”

Dom squinched his eyes shut. “I dunno,” he said. “Never been pregnant.”

“We’ll have to work on that,” Billy said, and his hand on Dom’s arm was hot and light and a little shaky. “Margaret wants nieces and nephews, y’know.”

Dom tried to turn over, but Billy’s hand stopped him. “But I want to look at your face,” Dom protested.

“The only reason you could possibly want to turn over right this minute is to give me a kiss,” Billy informed him, and his voice was shaky, too, but it sounded like he was smiling. “But I drank approximately nineteen pints of beer last night, and if you come face to face with me right now, you won’t be even a little bit in love with me, so.” His lips weren’t shaky at all—they were warm and dry and soft, pressing a kiss to Dom’s nape and then resting there as Billy’s arm came round Dom’s body, as his warm legs tucked up behind Dom’s and his chest curved to fit the curve of Dom’s back. “So that’ll have to do for the first kiss, at least until we’ve both slept a bit and brushed our teeth, alright?”

Dom’s whole body flushed, from scalp to toes, and he nodded a little, grinning like an idiot and half-glad Billy couldn’t see it, as he was sure he looked like a lunatic. “Alright. But I’m not having any babies, Boyd. That’ll have to be your job.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Billy sighed, snuggling closer. “Shut up now.”

“Okay. ...Thanks, Prince Billy.”

“You’re welcome, peasant lad Dom.”

“I’m not a peasant, Bill.”

“Shut up.”

“Alright.”

...

...


End file.
